


What He's Made Of

by lasairfhiona



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasairfhiona/pseuds/lasairfhiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an Introspective look at how Clint became who he is</p>
<p>For <a href="http://avengers-tables.livejournal.com/">avengers_tables</a> Prompt: arrow/bow/quiver</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He's Made Of

He could remember the first time he held a bow in his hands. It was before his parents were killed. Barney had wanted to play cowboys and Indians. Because Barney thought cowboys were the coolest, he'd been 'stuck' as the Indian. The bow had been a stick with a string tied between the ends. There was no real tension to shoot the stick arrows, but he could imagine. And long after Barney had lost interest in the game, he was still in love with his little handmade bow.

That Christmas _Santa_ brought him a little bow that shot arrows with suction cups instead of points. He promised to never shoot it in the house but always did in his bedroom when no one was around until the fateful day his father walked in at the wrong time and took an arrow to the chest. His little bow was broken that day when his father beat him with it. 

That last little suction cup arrow that had fallen behind a chair when his father took everything, a child's book about Robin Hood, and a picture of his mother were the only relics from his childhood that hadn't been stolen or destroyed.

*&*

One of the first lessons he learned early on, besides avoiding his father when he'd been drinking, was to make friends with the librarians. The libraries had become his refuge during long summer breaks and anytime he needed to get away.

The first one that was important to him was when he was little and avoiding his father on Saturdays after his chores were finished was Debra. She was a stern lady but always seems to have age appropriate books about Robin Hood, archers and as he aged Lord of the Rings.

He was older when he met his next librarian, Claire. She'd helped him with his school work and rewarded his good grades by getting books about archery, the technical ones about how to make a bow or construct an arrow suitable for different ranges from other libraries for him. When he wasn't at school or doing his chores at the orphanage, he was on the prowl for feathers from the crows that made their home in the trees outside his window or at the library. 

And in the summer when Claire came to hand pick the boys she wanted to help at the library for the various summer programs, he was always chosen. And if those programs had an emphasis on subjects where he could be a 'typical boy' and ask about the weapons, the bows in particular, no one was the wiser. 

It was after her death from an unexpected heart attack that he finally gave in to Barney's pestering to run away and join the circus. Her picture and obituary were ripped from the paper and tucked into his book with the picture of his mother and the stone arrowhead the flint knapper that had been at one of those summer programs had given him joined his treasured possessions. 

And if Claire's family ever wondered who the boy turned man was that left a handmade arrow with 'thank you' carved in the shaft and a bouquet of flowers on her grave was, they never asked. He would periodically see them over the years of him visiting her grave. In some respects they had seen him grow up just as he'd seen Claire's children and grandchildren grow older.

A librarian in Texas bought him those work books parents who home school their kids use to teach their kids every time the circus passed through town. And another one in Louisiana made him take his GED at seventeen when the circus stayed longer to make repairs. He'd wondered if maybe the two had been in cahoots with each other when he'd arrived in one of the cities to find news books waiting on him and they always pressed him to learn more and leave the circus.

Barney's final betrayal had been the catalyst for him to pack up the belongings he'd always guarded and leave the circus, eventually joining the Marine Corp when he was in Texas with the help of Marie.

And if Marie from Texas, and Rose from Louisiana showed up at his graduation from boot camp with top honours and told him how proud of him they were, he'd never admit he cried that night. He hadn't heard those words since before his mother died. The picture of the three of them, him standing between them in full uniform, was added to the book with the others. 

And if annual donations to three libraries showed up, he'll never admit to saving money and going without to make sure the money was sent for programs that helped kids.

*&*

After years of doing trick shots with crapy second hand bows and dulling arrows, the first thing Clint did once he had a regular income was save for and buy a brand new bow and several quivers full of arrows of different types to find the exact one he liked best. He spent his off duty hours at whatever local hunting club there was perfecting his form and aim. It didn't take the Corp long to discover his talent wasn't limited to the sniper rifle when he ran into his commanding officer at the hunting club one day after he'd clustered a grouping of arrows in the bullseye. From then on, he was given the choice of using bow or rifle when sent out as a member of MARSOC to eliminate terrorists and threats to the safety and the security of the country.

And if he broke down after he put an arrow through the eye of his first target, he didn't dissuade their impression of him because it was because it was his first kill and not letting on to the fact it was his brother. They didn't need to know Barney had turned into a terrorist hell bent on the destruction of what he believed was a country that wronged him. Barney Barton, his brother, had ceased to exist a long time ago.

*&*

He hadn't known why SHIELD made the effort to recruit him when he was going to re-up for a third tour in the corp. He couldn't fathom why the intelligence agency would want him. Sure he was smart and at the top f his field, but he was basically a grunt, a boy with a bow. But he bought the recruitment spiel but even as he was signing the papers for SHIELD he really had no idea how he'd fit into the organization.

He quickly found out how wrong he was because along with all the intelligence training he received, he was immersed in languages as well as being asked to assist R&D to developing a bow that would fit his needs. He still had tha first bow, tucked away in a case in his closet along with every other incarnation of bow every since. R&D asked what arrows he liked and he got to play on a range with all their prototypes until they found the ones he deemed the best. And in later years, he was the one that gave them the idea for the electronic quiver which he carried to this day.

Now after over ten years with SHIELD, he understood the contribution he had made and why they had wanted the archery obsessed little boy turned carnie turned sniper as part of their organization.

*&*

When Tony customized Stark tower for the Avengers, he asked for a small wood shop. He got a half a floor on the same level as Bruce, one floor below their apartment floor. Tony filled it with every woodworking tool and piece of equipment known to man and a selection of the most beautiful burled and curlied woods he'd ever seen. Leave it to Stark to overdo it.

The first thing he made from curly redwood was a chest. The second was a bow.

And it was in his apartment Phil found him removing items from a worn lather suitcase with stickers on it for wrapping and placing in the chest. And when for the first time in all the years they had been together Phil asked him about the contents and he sat telling the story of every bow, every arrow and every picture in the case until they were all wrapped in a soft cloth and gently stored away. And when Phil handed him the article about the handmade bow in rare wood that appeared at the library to be added to the Claire Dunn display collection that consisted of the quivers of "thank you" arrows and with the engraved words, "For Claire, because she made a difference in the life of one little boy," he would deny until the day he died that it was him. It didn't stop him from gently folding the article and placing it in the book with her fading and now fragile obituary when Phil wasn't looking. He knew Phil knew, about all of it in fact, but there was an unspoken agreement to never talk about his donations to those who made a difference. 

And if when the Avengers went to the Gulf Coast to help clean up after a hurricane, two grey hair women brought a home cooked meal for all of them, no one said a word as Clint teared up when they once again told him how proud of the man he'd become. He was who he'd become because of them, because of Claire, because of his mother, and because of Phil, and the unwavering belief they had in him.


End file.
